Chapter Text
Suga breathes in the excitement in the air, leaning against the railing up on the spectator’s level. Two seats are already secured right behind him, and he taps his fingers against the cool metal in quick little twitches.
“It should only be a minute or so,” Daichi says by his side, amusement evident in his voice as he leans on his forearms to peer down at the court.
“I just want to make sure they see us before they start,” Suga defends his anxiousness with, worrying his lip between teeth as his tapping continues.
“They already know,” Daichi mumbles, voice low as if he knows it won’t do a thing to Suga’s state of mind.
As right as he is about that, Suga still wants to be seen. Call it a selfish desire, but in this stadium filled to the brim with all the teams who already lost, among friends and family members and volleyball fans, he wants to see his former kouhai look up at him and be able to pretend that his cheering for them is reassuring, somehow.
The loudspeakers come to life, a crackling noise followed by the deep voice of the tournament host. He remembers two years ago, sitting on the bleachers opposite of where he is now. There’s the same kind of buzz in his veins, more prominent now that Karasuno is finally, finally in the last round of nationals.
“Ah look, there’s Yachi.” Daichi nudges him and Suga follows his line of vision to the blonde girl carrying equipment towards Karasuno’s side.
She looks a lot more confident now than last time Suga saw her, barely holding back tears at the graduation party for the third years which feels like so long ago now.
“They grow up so fast,” Suga groans, nails digging into the railing and breath hitching when players start milling out through a door leading back to the locker rooms.
It’s the opposing team, tall and exuding such focus that Suga can feel the little hairs on his arms stand on end. Some of these players will be starting university shortly, and Suga makes a wry smile at the thought of any of them joining the same team as him.
Since his university is known for anything except their volleyball team he doubts it, though he’s happy all the same. It’s nice enough to be able to continue with his hobby, even if they lose badly most of the time.
“Hang on,” Daichi interrupts his thought process with, “isn’t that Oikawa?”
He points towards the stairs by the middle of the bleachers, and sure enough, Oikawa’s fluffy hair is followed by the rest of him as he argues animatedly with someone following him.
“Ushijima, too,” Suga adds softly as the imposing man comes into view, but he can’t help the little grin spreading across his face. “Let’s call them over.”
Daichi barely has time to give him a horrified look before Suga starts waving, able to pinpoint the exact moment Oikawa spots them by the stiffening of his shoulders. He’s half convinced Oikawa will turn and go the other way, but it seems Ushijima stops him. Honestly, he wishes he was close enough to make out the look on Oikawa’s face because the rude gesture he makes towards Ushijima is both hilarious and slightly offending.
“Sawamura-san, Sugawara-san,” Ushijima greets them politely with an accompanying nod of his head.
“Tsk,” is all Oikawa says until Ushijima squeezes his waist and clears his throat. It earns him a glare and a huff, but Suga is more interested in the familiar way they touch. “Mr. Refreshing, former Karasuno captain, I should have known you’d be here.”
“Here to give Kageyama your support?” Daichi teases, and Suga has to hide a smile behind a hand when a look of pure mortification passes over Oikawa’s face.
“We’ve been here all weekend to scope out potential new teammates,” Oikawa replies stiffly, then smiles nastily at them. “Something I suppose the two of you don’t need to bother with.”
“Oikawa, don’t be rude,” Ushijima murmurs, squeezing his waist again before letting his hand drop.
Suga stores the observation away for later, when he can laugh at the unexpected development unhindered. He can clearly remember the first time his new team was unfortunate enough to go up against the combined power of Ushijima’s spikes and Oikawa’s killer serves, and how they bickered so much off and on court that they lost points simply because of that.
“Worried Kageyama will join you?” Daichi asks, because he’s never been afraid of provoking others and Suga holds his breath to contain his laughter.
“I-! You-!” Oikawa splutters, knuckles whitening from clenched fists.
They’re saved from the rest of his sentence as Karasuno filters in, cheers erupting throughout the stadium. Suga is only faintly bitter at how popular his former school has become, knowing the reason they’re in the finals now is due to attracting great players the past two years, and also knowing he barely had a hand in the success that turned things around.
Still, he couldn’t be more proud of his kouhai, and leaning as far as he can over the railing he calls out to them.
“Kageyama! Hinata! Good luck!”
He’s about to add in a cheer for Tsukishima and Yamaguchi, too, when Kageyama’s head snaps towards them and he stops to break free from the rest of the team.
Even at this distance, Suga feels a little faint. He’s been following Karasuno’s progress as best he could, watching the games shown on TV, peering over articles featuring high school volleyball more intently than is probably healthy, but nothing has really prepared him for the sight that is third year Kageyama in the flesh.
Hinata bounces over to Kageyama’s side, earning himself a rough push that Suga barely notices as Kageyama makes an apologetic gesture towards Ukai before jogging over to them.
“Yahoo, Tobio-chan!” Oikawa greets him with when he’s close enough, leaning over the railing as well. “I’m looking forward to crushing your university team~”
“Suga-san, Daichi-san,” Kageyama says, almost too quiet to be heard.
Oikawa hears him perfectly it seems – “Waka-chan did you hear that?! How rude! If he came up here I’d smack him!” – but all Suga can think is whoa.
“Thank you for coming,” Kageyama continues, all mature and reliable, and when did that happen?
“Good luck,” Daichi tells him, and Suga knows he should chime in but somehow his throat doesn’t seem to be working because the only sounds escaping him are choked gurgles.
Which is extremely embarrassing, but there isn’t much he can do about it right now because Kageyama’s dark gaze drags over his face a little slower than necessary before sliding towards Oikawa.
“I’ve seen your games,” he tells Oikawa, a furrow to his brow that shows his competitive side, and it’s so attractive that Suga has to pinch himself because this is ridiculous. “My jump serve is probably better than yours now.”
As if he hadn’t just made Oikawa spontaneously combust, Kageyama turns back to Suga and Daichi.
“We’ve got an extra day here in Tokyo tomorrow,” he says politely, then pauses to weigh on his heels hesitantly. It’s almost a relief, to know that while Kageyama has changed, there are still parts of the awkward first year he used to be left in him. “If you’re not busy…”
“Of course!” Suga lets out in a rush, wanting to kick himself for the burning he can feel in his cheeks. “We’d love to show you around.”
There’s a twitch to Kageyama’s lips, like an attempt to smile, but then he bows quickly and runs over to where his team is already warming up. Oikawa is still making strangled noises off to the side, but Suga is much too occupied with staring after Kageyama to care about it.
“You’ve got a lecture tomorrow,” Daichi points out, coughing meaningfully when Suga startles.
“Not a very important one,” Suga argues weakly, fiddling with the hem of his sweater. Maybe he should sit down now, just to make sure his knees stop quivering.
“Well,” Daichi coughs again, “just making sure you remember.”
“Oh, shut it,” Suga grumbles, his whole face most likely bright red by now. “Don’t tell me how to live my life.”
He promptly sits down, gnawing on his thumb as his knee bobs up and down. Suddenly, coming to watch the game seems like a terrible idea. Maybe he should go, just up and leave and pretend this exchange never happened because oh god, he is so gay.
“The stats say he’s close to 190 now,” Daichi informs him, reading from the pamphlet they’d received upon arrival, which is incredibly unnecessary because Suga already knows.
“Don’t,” he pleads, closing his eyes and breathing in deep, only opening them to give a half-hearted wave when Ushijima announces that he and Oikawa are off to find seats.
Despite his inner turmoil he pays immediate attention once the match start is announced, sitting on pins and needles throughout the whole first set. Kageyama plays beautifully, of course, in perfect sync with his team members. Hinata, living up to the title of ace, earns the most scores with his quick spikes, high-fiving Kageyama after each one. It’s enough to assure them the first set, and Suga wishes so badly that he was down there, cheering with them.
It must have shown on his face because Daichi pats his shoulder, a proud smile lingering around his mouth.
“You can celebrate with them tomorrow,” he says, but Suga only sighs deeply.
Tomorrow might be a bad idea, after all. It’s bad enough that Kageyama glances up towards him when the second set starts, and Suga feels obliged to wave and smile at him even though all he wants to do is lock himself inside a bathroom and slap some sense into himself.
They lose the second set, and Suga’s mind instantly provides him with various ideas on how to comfort Kageyama if they were to lose the game. It gets to the point where he digs his nails into his palms, face tense as he tries his best not to squirm in his seat. Daichi doesn’t seem to notice this at least, and Suga is thankful for small mercies. He sends enough knowing glances Suga’s way as it is, whenever Kageyama makes a particularly impressive toss or when he shouts orders at the rest of the team.
Making Kageyama captain had to be illegal. Even so he does it so well, keeping his team well put together as the third set starts. There’s no fumbling, no hesitation in his eyes as he sends toss after toss at his spikers, not that there ever were. Suga would be jealous if he hadn’t long since accepted the fact that Kageyama is a genius, at a level he couldn’t reach no matter how hard he trained.
Instead he has to focus so as not to drool when Kageyama lifts his shirt to wipe sweat off his brow, an intense look on his face as he drops it to prepare for the opposing team’s serve.
“Just two rotations and it’s Kageyama’s serve,” Daichi mutters to himself, chin resting on his clasped hands as he leans forward unconsciously, tensing up at the smack of a palm when the ball gets served over the net only to relax again as one of the second years pull off a perfect receive.
Suga bites his lip. Kageyama has served a few times already in the previous sets, but not enough that he could properly show Oikawa he wasn’t all words. Of course he should be focused on winning, but knowing Kageyama, Suga is certain that he’s longing for a chance to properly show off.
The chance arrives five minutes later, after a series of quick points to either side. They’re almost even now, not far from match point, the whole stadium collectively holding their breaths as Kageyama spins the ball in his hands and bounces it twice against the floor.
“Go for it, Kageyama!” Hinata shouts, an eager grin on his face.
Suga can just barely make out Tsukishima’s eye roll and he smiles, their antics still familiar despite the years since they played together.
“Here we go,” Daichi whispers, and Suga grips the edge of his seat desperately as Kageyama throws the ball up and jumps after it.
He can tell it’s perfect before it even soars across the net. There’s a loud curse from somewhere behind him that sounds suspiciously like Oikawa just before the ball hits the floor with a definite smack, and Suga can’t help the excited noise that escapes him.
The next serve goes much the same way, the third bouncing off a player’s forearm. There’s more force behind them this time, as if Kageyama doesn’t need to hold back anymore. It must be exhausting to pull them off, one after the other, but it’s certainly discouraging for their opponents. He wonders if Oikawa feels proud, being the inspiration for such sheer power, but when he catches sight of him during the few seconds it takes Kageyama to get the ball back he can tell that there’s mainly petulant annoyance on the other setter’s face.
Oh well, it’s not like Suga looks forward to coming up against Kageyama soon, either.
Five successful serves in total and Karasuno is at match point, the game pretty much in the bag even if the other school holds out for another five minutes. The resulting cheer when the winner is declared is deafening, and Suga stands up like everyone else to shout words of congratulations. He feels a mix of pride, awe, and intimidation; mostly he’s simply relieved that they won so he won’t have to worry about tomorrow.
Maybe tomorrow Kageyama will tell him which university he’ll be attending, and Suga can make up wishful plans in his head to see him now and then.
Maybe tomorrow he’ll find out that Kageyama is already seeing someone, and walk home heartbroken from something that was barely even there in the first place.
Maybe, Suga thinks to himself, maybe he still remembers confessing to me before I left.